Hoodlum
by FeatherxxDreams
Summary: Word on the street is that Red Hood isn't working alone anymore. JayTim. (12/?)
1. Origin

**Title: **Origin

**Rating: **T for this part, eventually NC-17 for the whole verse.

**Character/Pairing:** Jason Todd, Tim Drake

**Notes:** For Livy, who had the suckiest first week of senior year ever, apparently. This is going off the idea that it took Tim longer to figure out that Bruce wasn't actually dead. After Battle for the Cowl with a deviation from the cannon thrown in quickly after Tim is fired.

**Summary: **It's been one week since Bruce's funeral. Since Dick fired him and replaced him with Damian. Tim's been sinking and it's time to find an anchor, and who would know about anchors more than Jason Todd, the-boy-who-died-and-came-back-again?

:::

Tim has been staring at the table through his fingers for so long that he barely notices when someone slides in the booth across from him. Someone smells like leather and smoke and things less disappointing than Wayne Manor so Tim looks up from his threaded appendages. Jason's eyes widen just enough to let Tim know he looks as shitty as he feels. His eyes are probably re-rimmed or bloodshot and the circles under them are darker than they have ever been. His hair is sticking to his head from sleeping on it without wash for a few days and he looks skinny. Not slim, but actually skinny.

"Damn, replacement. You look like shit." Jason says.

Tim half snorts, the noise sounding more like a whimper than anything.

"So why did you call me here?"

Here happens to be in the heart of the Narrows, a place Dick won't come looking for him when he realizes that Tim isn't where he left him. Here is a little diner mostly frequented by low-rate criminals tucked away in the basement of an arcade, a place Jason seems to feel at home in. Tim wonders if this is in Red Hood's territory.

"Dick is Batman now." Tim doesn't bother to lower his voice. It's already rasped and far-away sounding from the screaming and the fits and the last week of his world falling apart.

"Yeah, I knew that. Figured as much after the big showdown," Jason doesn't apologize for almost shooting Tim. Tim doesn't ask for an apology.

"He fired me." Tim's voice sounds very quiet. His eyes train to the table again, counting the nicks and hairline scratches on the surface rather than look at Jason.

"…then who's Robin?" Jason keeps his voice at a passive disinterest.

"Damian."

"That little monstrosity?" Jason asks, "You're joking. Dick wants him to be Robin?"

Tim nods in misery. "He thinks he can change Damian. Domesticate him or something."

Jason scoffs, "Like that will happen."

Tim folds his arms down on the table, trying to ignore the horrible empty feeling gnawing at his stomach. "I don't know what to do."

Jason doesn't say anything.

"I don't know what to do," Tim repeats angrily, anger at himself mostly, for not being able to do anything. For being helpless even though he is…_was_ Robin. "My dad is dead, my best friend is dead, _Bruce_ is dead, and Dick took away the only thing I had left _and I don't know what to do_."

He hears Jason, or rather, the leather Jason is wearing, shift.

"I feel like I'm drowning. Like everything I do is hopeless. Like _I'm_ hopeless. I'm supposed to be able to protect Gotham and protect _people_ but I can't protect anyone important to me. I feel-"

"Like the clock's about to hit zero and you can't get away?" Jason interrupts.

Tim nods, opens his mouth, "I thought…you might know if anything…if anything makes it go away."

Jason leans back, slings an arm over the booth, "Nothing helps. You have to learn to cut out the pain. Distance yourself from it."

"How do you do it?" Tim asks.

"I fight. I smoke. I kill. I fuck." Jason shrugs, "I do a lot of bad things that take up more space in my mind than the voice of the Pit."

"The voice of the Pit…" Tim repeats.

Jason taps his fingers of the table. He surveys Tim with a detached sort of scrutiny, taking in the boy that looks a slip away from death. He looks broken, like Jason, with stretched out lines and frayed wires. He looks on edge, like if someone were to blow in his direction he would crumble. He looks wrecked and sort of beautiful in a way that Jason appreciates. He's been there, where Tim is now, and he thinks Tim looks much better broken than he ever did.

"Is there another reason you wanted me here?"

Tim jerks, eyes focusing on Jason again, and Jason finds that he likes that. He likes how Tim is skittish and tense and how he seems to calm just slightly when he's paying attention to Jason. That's a new thing, and Jason likes it a lot. He's always thought of the Replacement – Tim – as a pretty thing just out of reach (after all, Jason was never allowed to keep pretty things).

"I…are you still going to be Red Hood? Even if Dick is Batman instead of…_him_?"

Jason knows what Tim is really asking. Is there a point to him being Red Hood on his crusade against Batman if the reason he started the crusade in the first place has died fighting the war he began.

"Gotham would be fucked without me." Jason says, and he believes it. He sees it on the faces of the people he protects in his territory. He sees it in the eyes of the men he kills, guns down like dogs, in the alleyways and rooftops of the dark city. Red Hood was no Batman, no knight of justice, but he was still a dark knight.

"Do you still want me to be your Robin?" Tim says the words so quickly that they blur together and Jason has to take a moment to decipher what he said.

"You aren't Robin anymore."

Tim shakes his head, shaking his bangs away from his blue, blue eyes.

"I don't work like Batman."

Tim nods.

"I kill people. Bad people, and sometimes good people if I have to. I'm not changing that."

Tim nods, slower this time.

"If you were my partner, you would have to kill too."

"Is that a no?" Tim asks softly.

"I didn't say no if you didn't." Jason says. Truthfully he's been wanting a partner for a while. He's been eyeing a girl in one of his territories but if he can get Tim, fully trained and almost deadly, that would be_ something_.

"I could kill," Tim's voice is steady, "I've come close."

"Come close and actually killed are two different things."

"I know," Tim frowns, seeming disappointed in himself, "I know that. When I almost did it, I wanted to, I almost did but…thinking about Bruce and how he would feel…that stopped me."

"And now?"

"And now Bruce is dead," Tim delivers bluntly. "This city killed him and Dick won't ever understand that."

Jason finds that he appreciates this new bluntness in Tim. It's only been a week since the public funeral of Bruce Wayne. Jason had come down to this very diner to watch it on their old, spastic television above the counter. Dick had been crying, keeping close to Alfred who was also tearing up. It had been hard for Jason to watch Alfred. Damian, shown to the world as Bruce's son for the first time, remained stoic but Jason could see his shoulders shaking and fists clenching. The boy wanted vengeance more than anyone, and since he was League it would be a while before he forgot that. Tim, though, had been completely blank. He looked like he wasn't even there. The Tim before him now was not that Tim.

"I don't suppose you have a uniform? Or a name?"

"I do, actually. At least, a name."

Jason arches a brow, leans forward into Tim's space, "And what is it?"

Tim looks more alive now than Jason has seen him since he sat down, since the funeral, since Tim's world started caving around him.

"Hoodlum."


	2. Reflection

"You live here?"

Jason tosses his heavy duffle full of the armory they just raided from one of Jason's competition onto the dingy looking couch. It's the first time Tim has been in Jason's apartment, or what he considers his apartment anyway. The paint is peeling from the walls and all the furniture looks flea-bitten and moth-ridden. A small, dark hallway leads to more of the apartment which Tim is sure looks just as bad.

"Don't have much selection when I don't get an allowance." Jason replies. He shrugs off his leather jacket, inspecting it for bloodstains.

Tim sets down his own bag, looking around the gloomy room. It fits Jason in a morbid, depressing way. He doesn't bother checking his clothes for bloodstains. It's only been a few days since he became Jason's partner – Hoodlum – but he hadn't killed anyone yet. Jason tells him he'll work him up to it. That it's not something Tim can just start doing and be fine. Tim isn't sure if he believes him.

Seeing it has become easier. He goes out with Jason every night in a simple black uniform, basically Dick's Nightwing costume without any color, watches Jason shoot and shoot and kill and kill. At first he would flinch and avert his eyes. Jason yelled at him every time for that. Threatened to 'fire' him. So Tim learned. He's half used to it now. He knows when Jason is done questioning them from his tone, knows when he's had his fun fucking up the really bad ones, and he knows how long it takes for the bullet to leave Jason's gun until his victims (should he call them victims if they deserve it? If they are ten times worse than Jason?) stop breathing. He hasn't run into Dick or Damian yet, and he realizes belatedly that running into Red Hood never just happened, Jason had always planned it. He figures they think he's run off to the Titans, or to…hell, who does he have left?

Tim's been staying at an apartment he bought in the city a long time ago with his father's money. It's not on any of the Bat records so he doesn't have to worry about them finding him for a while. It's clean and large, penthouse size, and much better than Jason's. It doesn't suit Tim as well as Jason's suits him though.

Jason stretches, showing off taut arm muscle, and pops his neck. "Damn. Those assholes really didn't want to give up their guns."

"Maybe because the guns were _theirs_," Tim blinks. He's been trying lately, to get back into light banter. Quips. It usually ends up fruitless.

Jason is eyeing him over his shoulder, a foreign look in his eye. "Hm."

"What?"

"You need a new uniform. You have no protection with that. All you're doing now is showing off your goods."

Tim chokes on air, "My _what_?"

"Your goods. Skin-tight spandex as your only layer? Come on, you're practically staring in a vigilante porno."

"I am not!"

Jason's eyes brighten, the corners of his mouth forming a wicked smirk, "You are. I'm not saying it's unappreciated but-"

"I am not staring in a porno for your benefit!" Tim snaps, "And I'm not at all! I…" Tim makes a noise of frustration and crosses his arms.

Jason laugh deep and slow, "Whatever you say. You still need an armored uniform. I can't have you going down every time you're shot at."

"I've never gone down," Tim says.

"Yet." Jason adds.

Tim frowns grumpily but doesn't disagree.

"Stop frowning." Jason says casually, "Tomorrow we're going after the boss of the guys we raided tonight. I need you in perfect form, Hoodlum, so get your beauty rest wherever the hell it is you sleep."

Tim is out the door of the apartment before Jason turns around to send him off.

:::

Tim drops into his bed freshly showered and bone tired. The sheets ruffle around him smelling like cotton and warmth and it's almost enough to lure him straight to sleep. Almost. His mind runs too fast to fall completely asleep, hovering over thoughts of Jason and their new partnership.

In all honesty, Tim is surprised Jason had accepted him. He was fully prepared for the former Robin to deny him when he asked Jason to meet with him. Tim rolls to his side, staring out the glass balcony doors. His apartment suite is nineteen feet up and he can barely see the Gotham skyline. The only things in his view are buildings. It's such a change compared to the Manor and it makes Tim a little homesick.

Tim closes his eyes, willing away thoughts of Dick and home. He can't think about his brother, not now. Not when Dick so easily pushed him out of the picture to make room for Bruce's monster of a son. Demon of a son was more accurate actually. Grandson of the Demonhead. What was Dick thinking, making a Robin out of an assassin? Tim would be a better Robin than Damian ever will be. No, that's not right. But Tim can be a better partner to Jason than Damian will be to Dick. That is something he can work at. Can perfect. Can master.

Jason isn't all bad anyway. From the few days of working together, Tim has been introduced to an entirely different Jason Todd. A Jason Todd that makes Tim wonder if Bruce ever really knew what he was talking about when he said the Jason he raised was gone. Jason likes to eat greasy food for every meal. Greasy burgers, greasy hot dogs, and food that is generally completely devoid of nutrition. He makes a lot of references to cop shows and old Noir films, enough to make Tim wonder if he's a junky.

And he certainly knows his way around a gun. They'll be patrolling around Red Hood's territory when Jason will veer off and head into an artillery store, chat up the owner (provided the owner was under his protection), and end up leaving with a new weapon. Tim only has one gun. A handgun that Jason is lending him "until you find one that you like."

Jason likes to make him uncomfortable. Not to the point where Tim would leave, no. He just sends little innuendos Tim's way, leers at him every once in a while. Tim knows he's just doing it because he gets a weird kick out of Tim feeling displaced, but Tim has gotten used to it. It's a change from working with Batman when all they had was commentary and pragmatism. With Jason, they have looks and grins and flirting and death.

Tim rolls onto his back, folding his hand over his abdomen. Jason is less of an enigma than before. More of a person. And honestly, Tim is afraid of how much he's starting to enjoy being with the person that Jason is. Outside of the uniforms.

Uniforms.

Tim figures he really isn't getting to sleep anytime soon and Jason wants him to get a real uniform.

Tim gets up and pads into the living room where his entire computer system, free from Oracle's trackers, is set up. He sits down, loads the mainframe, and starts planning his uniform.


	3. First

Tim doesn't hear the woman's screams as she flees the alley, leaving him to handle her assailant. He doesn't hear the gun load or fire, doesn't feel the bullet graze his skin just slightly. The moment he registered what was going on in this alley, he knew how it was going to end. He doesn't hear the crack and pop of the attacker's bones as he twists his firing arm out of place, kicks in his shins, and forces him to his knees. His hand goes for the gun Jason orders him to keep on him at all times, tucked in between his pants and his tailbone, safety off. He cocks it with one hand, keeping a vice grip on the criminal's arm with the other.

He doesn't hear himself fire the gun. He doesn't feel the thug go limp in his grip and he doesn't register letting go and watching the thug hit the ground, red gore splattered on the alley wall behind him.

Tim has a detached sort of clarity with the moment. Like someone else had used him to pull the trigger. His mind remains in a fog as he pushes back onto the street and through crowds. He doesn't recall how long it takes but somehow he ends up at his apartment, in his bathroom, running scalding water over his hands. When his senses return, he almost laughs. There's no reason to be running water on his hands if he didn't actually dirty them. He pulled a trigger, not sliced someone open. There's no blood to wash off.

Tim shudders, letting the water continue to burn his skin. No literal blood anyway. He pulls his hands out of the water, stares at them. They're shaking and raw. Tim numbly turns the faucet off and backs out of the room. He goes to the living room, pristine in its whiteness. It's too clean. Too pure.

Tim turns away from the white, staring into the kitchen. On the table sits the beacon he has for Jason. He walks over to the table and picks it up. It's like a lifeline, a one-chance use, one chance to see if Jason will come and help him or if he'll ignore it. Tim looks back into the living room. An irrational anger fills him, seeing so much purity in his house. It's mechanical, just like pulling the trigger had been. One moment Tim is standing in between the kitchen and the white, the next he's pushing over furniture and throwing books across the room and doing everything he can to tarnish the white without making it red.

:::

Jason hears the beeping before he find the device. He's forgotten he gave it to Tim, honestly. He didn't think the repl…_boy_ would ever use it. Thus far, Tim has proven to be self-sufficient with the exception of the night he asked Jason to be his partner. Jason digs receptor out from under the piles of ammunition he's been meticulously taking apart. The address on the locator reads somewhere in upscale Gotham, far from Red Hood's territory. "What the fuck?" Jason rubs his forehead, trying to think of where he recognizes the address from.

It takes him longer than it should to remember that it's Tim's place.

Jason runs a hand through his hair. What would Tim need at home that he couldn't just call about? Oh, well. Might as well go find out. He picks one of the smaller guns to stick bring in his jacket (he never leaves home without a gun these days, lessons learned the hard way) and grabs the keys to his bike. He doesn't bother locking the door behind him, everyone on his block knows who he is and knows he will fuck them up if they break in.

He makes his way to the street where his baby is parked, also something that people know not to fuck with. There are two things in the world Jason still has that belong solely to him. His bike and his body. He thinks the Pit probably owns his soul but he's branded his body as his. Jason slings a leather-clad leg over the seat, starting up the bike and letting it run for a few seconds before pulling into the road and heading for the unknown.

From his dingy place in the Narrows, it takes about ten minutes to get to Tim's. The front of the building is manned by a bellhop, god Jason hates bellhops, so he parks his bike in the empty lot across the road before sauntering across the street. The bellhop steps in front of him, eyeing his clothing distastefully.

"And who are you here to see?" The tone is haughty and Jason wants to punch him.

"Tenant 19B, Timothy Drake, so fuck off." He shoves past the worker and into the swinging doors of the complex. He takes the stairs to Tim's floor, is saved from encountering more people that way, and strides down the hall. Tim's hall only has two doors, 19A and 19B. Tim must be pretty loaded to land a floor with only one other tenant.

Jason raps the door with bruised knuckles. He thinks he broke them in a fight a few weeks ago but he can't remember. Either way, they don't hurt. He hears shuffling in the apartment but nobody opens the door. Jason frowns and tries the handle. The door opens and Jason files away another lesson he needs to teach Tim (never_, ever_ leave your front door unlocked, idiot).

He isn't sure if he walks into an illusion or a robbery. The front room is trashed, bookshelves tipped over, a T.V. lying on the ground, and Tim sits in the middle of it all with his hand between his knees and his arms holding the beacon. Jason lets the door shut behind him, "What the Hell happened here?"

Tim's shoulders jolt when he hears Jason and he looks up. His eyes are panicked, sickened, and Jason recognizes the look. He saw it in the mirror every day for years.

"Shit, Tim, who did you kill?"

Tim stills, literally becomes a statue before Jason's eyes. He stops breathing and can't tear his eyes away from Jason's questioning ones. He looks terrified of…Jason. And shit, Jason isn't about to let Tim think he's judging him.

Jason crosses the room in three long strides and sits down next to Tim. He puts an arm tight around his shoulders to show Tim he's there and launches into the words he wishes someone had given him once. "It's okay. It's fine, Tim. You did fine. You're home, alright? Nobody's ghost is coming after you; you don't have to dwell on it. If you start to dwell on it you start to obsess and if you obsess you start to lose."

Tim shakes a little, but he's listening. He sags forward, pressing against Jason's chest. He lets Jason tuck him into his chest like a protective lover, lets Jason rub his back and tell him how it won't get easier with time but it will become more bearable.

Tim can only hope he's right.


	4. Second

After the first time, Jason makes Tim take a break. He relegates him to desk duty, makes him learn the ins and outs of every type of gun Jason keeps in his arsenal. He tells Tim to set up a mainframe for them – "Get it as similar to Batman's as you can – and leaves him to his own devices for a week.

Although the night terrors have lessened and Tim has calmed down, he takes the break with gratitude. A part of him feels like he's disappointed Jason so he works meticulously on the computer system until it's a near perfect replica of the system they both grew used to in the employ of the Bat. He sets up the mainframe in the guest room of his apartment seeing as nobody ever uses it. The entire room ends up looking like Oracle's office and it makes Tim a little home sick.

He hasn't talked to Jason in a few days. He hasn't thanked him for being there the night he killed for the first time. He hasn't thanked Jason for staying the night, cleaning up the living room with him, or making him the weirdest looking pancakes he'd ever eaten. He doesn't think he needs to say the words to make Jason see how much he needed that.

Jason has a key now.

Tim's apartment has become the unofficial headquarters for them. It's cleaner than Jason's (by far), safer (by far), and smells less like sewage and more like the food scented air fresheners Tim keeps around the house.

And Tim keeps _finding _things of Jason's around the house. His vintage Andy Griffith DVD set (hidden behind Tim's own collection of Bones), his small collection of books (kept on a separate shelf on Tim's large bookcase), and his food. Tim shouldn't be surprised, Jason does pop in a lot to dink around on the computer system, but it unnerves him a little. It's a closeness that he wasn't expecting to have with Jason, even after he helped Tim through his breakdown.

So after another week of a nearly domestic partnership, Tim is surprised when Jason saunters into Tim's bedroom in full uniform and tosses him a rucksack. Tim slowly closes his book after dog-earring the page. "What's that?"

"Your new uniform. We have work to do."

Tim jerks his head up, "We do?"

"Hurry up and change. I want to get this done before the Bat and his demon bird come out to play." Jason leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Tim sets his book on the nightstand beside him, pulling the bag closer. Upon opening it, he finds a lot of brown and gray mushed into the small space. Tim digs the clothes out, holding them up for observation. The shirt is mostly like Jason's (gray with a red symbol on the chest) with the exception of it being sleeveless. Well, almost sleeveless. Where the gray color ends at the shoulders, a translucent fabric runs down to the wrists. There's a pair of black gloves in the bag too, with the same translucent fabric over the index and middle fingers, giving the glove a fingerless quality. The pants match Jason's and look like they'll be a size too small, even if they are spandex. The last two items are the empty utility belt and the red domino mask.

Tim changes mechanically. It brings back a sense of self, the feeling of suiting up. He pushes his bangs back from his face before putting on the mask. To his surprise, the lenses are fully equipped with the computer systems his Robin mask had been. Tim pads into the living room, still barefoot. Jason is leaning against the far wall, looking out the window to the streets below.

"Did you steal this from the Cave?"

"I couldn't get into the Cave if I wanted. The big man rewired it to hate me." Jason says. He also has a mask instead of his helmet tonight.

"Do I get a jacket?"

Jason chuckles, "When you've earned it. These things aren't complimentary."

Tim fights an answering smile, "So where are we going?"

:::

Jason leads Tim to a warehouse rooftop near the docks. At this time of day, mid-evening, the only people still at the docks are criminals and stupid kids who think running errands for the mob will get them somewhere.

Jason lies on the roof, looking out from the ledge. He motions for Tim to follow suit, rising to his elbows so he can see better. Tim gets down by his side, peering off the roof. Jason is staring ahead at a lone man pacing back and forth along the waterfront. "See him?"

Tim nods.

"He's been working for me recently, running messages around to the crime lords that pay up to me." Jason says lowly, "The little shit has _also _been reporting to Black Mask and letting him know the inside scoop."

"The Black Mask is still going at you?" Tim remembers that Jason and Mask had a feud when Jason first donned the Hood but he though Jason had won, more or less.

"He's been aiming to regain his territory and followers lately. Pisses me off a little. Anyway, I called this idiot here to show him what we do to people who double cross the Hood." Jason looks at him pointedly.

Tim looks at the surface of the roof rather than the lenses of Jason's mask.

"I told you I would ease you into it. It's been two weeks. Time to try again."

"Pretty sure the last time wasn't _trying_, it was _doing_." Tim spits.

"Don't talk back. You killed someone, yeah, but you didn't deal with it well and you probably didn't do it as clean as you could. One bullet to the head, nothing else is necessary. You miss and you get gore splattered everywhere, which is a bitch to clean out of these shirts, and if you're really unlucky you get a stubborn fucker who won't die that easily. What did I just say?"

Tim sighs, "One bullet. Center of the head. Don't miss."

Not exactly, but pretty much." Jason huffs, "Alright. Now you go down there and scare him a little, then you kill him."

"By myself?" Tim finds himself asking.

"Did you want me to come?" Jason scoffs.

Tim is quiet. He does want Jason there. If he messes up. If he freaks out. If he stops.

"Look, Tim, I can't go down there and hold your hand. That will reflect badly on you for any of the runners watching. You can't have a cowardly rep if you're working as my partner. I can watch from up here but you have to do it on your own. You get me?"

Tim presses his mouth into a thin line and nods. He does understand, street cred and all, but he doesn't like the idea. "What am I supposed to say?"

"I don't care, just sell it."

"…okay."

:::

"Who the Hell are you supposed to be, huh?"

Tim stops in front of the now still criminal, folding his arms. "Hoodlum. And you're Red Hood's errand boy."

"I ain't never heard of no Hoodlum," The man sneers, "And I ain't no boy, I'm a man."

Tim looks him up and down, all 300-odd pounds of gutter rat, complete with missing teeth, odorous breath, and bruised skin. "I can see that."

"Who're you?" He demands again, looking him up and down much less thoroughly. "You dress like 'Hood. You his kid or some'in?"

Tim resists the urge to roll his eyes, "I am not Red Hood's child. I'm his partner."

"He ain't got no partner. He ain't the goddamn Batman."

"He has a partner now," Tim frowns. "And he's not happy with you."

"I didn't do shit." The man grumbles, "You ain't his partner. Yer snow white, kid. You don't got a deadly bone in 'ya, I can tell. So who are ya'? His lover?"

Tim thinks back to Jason's words. Sell it.

"Does it matter if he's fucking me? What matters is that you pissed him off."

"I didn't do nothin' ta' piss him off about!" The man yells. He's showing all the classic signs of lying. Sweaty palms, nervous tick, shifting eyes. Tim thinks he's looking for Jason.

"Red Hood isn't coming. He doesn't need to waste time on traitors like you." Tim finds that the more he talks, the more he gets into character. His mind races, already coming up with a full personality and background for who he wants Hoodlum to be. He'll have to write it down later.

"You callin' me a traitor?"

"I did." Tim confirms, "Because you really suck at covering your tracks. Any late night visits to the Black Mask recently?"

The man freezes, 'I ain't…I ne'er…"

"Save your breath, I already know, and so does Red Hood. Which really, is the only thing that matters." Tim uncrosses his arms, grabs his handgun (still on loan from Jason) and idly fiddles with it. "You tried to play both sides but you're nowhere near good enough to succeed."

The man takes a shaky step back, "Listen! I got kids! I-"

"Would you have kids every time someone held you at gunpoint? Were _your kids_ your excuse when you sold out to Black Mask?"

Tim cocks the gun, pinning the man with a glare. The readings from his lenses are telling him how quickly the man's heart is beating. He's terrified. He's terrified because of Tim. That's…a new feeling. Tim has never intimidated someone so much before. As Robin it was always Batman being the intimidating one. It…feels good. It's a weird rush, similar to the rush he got as Robin when he finally caught a rouge except he's about to kill someone.

"Tell you what. I'll give you ten seconds. If you can get out of my range by then, I'll let you live and I'll tell Hood to leave you alone."

"H-How do I know he'll listen to you?" The man stutters. Tim finds it interesting that his speech keep degrading and improving. He wonders if all criminals use the ridiculous slang because they think it's cool.

"We're fucking, remember?" He smirks a little. "Ten…nine…"

The man turns and runs, but not very fast. Tim raises his gun, taking a calming breath and pulls the trigger. The man falls forward with a dull thud. Tim blinks a few rapid times, almost surprised he actually made the shot.

He moves forward to see if he made the target Jason wanted him to hit. By the time he reaches the man's body, Jason is coming up behind him. "Not bad, Hoodlum."

"I thought you couldn't come down here."

"The Runners took off as soon as John Doe here was outed. They got the info they wanted." Jason walks over to the other side of the body, turning it over with the toe of his boot. There's a single bloody hole dead center in his forehead. "Nice shot. The running bit was a little cliché, don't you think?"

"Too Godfather?"

Jason eyes him, "You seem to be handling this better."

Tim half shrugs, "Maybe it's because I was expecting this. The other time was…unplanned." Tim still feels the nervous rush of his heart, the too-hot feeling in his temples threatening to cripple him. He stamps it all down in favor of conversation, "You have any suggestions?"

"Start smoking," Jason laughs. He sobers quickly, giving Tim what he thinks is an assessing look. "You know it will be okay, right? If you need something…"

Tim takes a breath, "I think..I think I'll be okay this time. Right now anyway."

"Give it a few minutes," Jason quips.

Tim smiles sardonically at that.

"What did you tell him anyway? About who you were? That's going to be the first thing the runners spread around."

"I said I was your partner. Hoodlum. And…" Tim thinks over his words, thinks about what his initial reputation is going to be among the people he now helps control. He flushes deeply, "that's all."

"That's all?"

"Yeah, that's all." Tim replies quickly, "So what do you usually do with the body?"

"Leave it and a witty note for Batman to find on patrol later." Jason shrugs. He bends down, rummaging through the guys pockets, "but they say a picture is worth one thousand words and this will be my first message to Dickie, so…"

Jason takes out a cellphone, flipping it open. He steps over the body, throwing an arm around Tim's shoulders, holding up the peace-sign and pressing a button on the phone. He pulls away before Tim can assess the jump in his stomach from Jason's warmth. After a few more button clicks, Jason holds the phone out for Tim to see. The background has been changed to the picture of them.

"Batman will love that," Tim says sarcastically.

"You know it." Jason closes the phone and tosses it on the man's fat belly. "Alright, I'm hungry. You up for greasy burgers?"


	5. Rumor Has It

Three weeks into their partnership, Tim has the unfortunate reminder that there is a side of Gotham he never saw as Robin. Jason employs many of them – Runners. They're sneakier than before Tim was Robin, when he was just a kid running around photographing the Bat, which is saying something. They hide in the shadows, listening to the city. Jason says the city speaks to them. He says he was a runner before Bruce plucked him off the streets. Jason has a strong appreciation of runners, Tim thinks.

As Hoodlum, he sees them often, talks to them less. They nod to him, the ones in Jason's employ, or just silently observe whatever he's doing. He's gotten used to their presence. Jason says it's part of being on the higher end of the food chain. All the runners want to know their status. They want to know if Jason is at the top of his game, they want to spread the word to the streets, and they want to stay out of the way of the Bat. Runners squeal to Batman, Jason says.

Tim is sprawled on his couch, reading, when Jason walks into his apartment without knocking. Tim shoots him a frustrated glance over his book. They've talked about this.

Jason ignores the look, choosing instead to plop down on the couch, barely giving Tim time to retract his legs under him. Jason fishes for the remote to the stereo and mutes the soft classical piece Tim's been playing on repeat for the last hour. "So I had a meeting with my Runners today to find out what the streets say about you."

"Me?"

"Hoodlum," Jason clarifies with a pointed,_ really_, look.

"Oh. What are they saying? Does…Batman know about Hoodlum yet?"

"Batman hears whispers but nobody has tattled yet. Anyway, your rep is pretty good. Four kills for 'the cause' in one week. Not bad for someone who for all purposes came from out of nowhere."

"Only two of those were actually mine," Tim mumbles. He isn't disappointed or anything, he just doesn't think his reputation as Jason's sidekick should be built on Jason's dirty work.

"Of course people are going to exaggerate your accomplishments. When I first started as Red Hood, people thought I had already killed the Joker." Jason scoffs. "Rumors spread. Rumors are big business in the underworld."

"Okay, so I have a bad reputation in a good way." Tim surmises.

"Yeah, I actually heard another interesting little tidbit-"

Jason is cut off by Tim's cell phone ringing harshly from the kitchen table. It startles them both, Tim more-so because nobody has called him for weeks. He thought the battery had run out days ago.

"Hold on," Tim says distantly, getting up and going to the table. He puts down the book, picking up his phone and answering, "Hello?"

"Tim?"

Tim freezes, heart hammering as Dick's voice comes through the receiver. He spins around, frantically locking eyes with Jason who has turned to watch his exchange. Jason raises an eyebrow at Tim's expression.

'_It's Dick_!' Tim mouths, '_What if he knows_?'

"Tim, are you there?"

"Uh! Yeah, uh, I mean, yes. What is it?" Tim lifts one hand in a 'what-the-hell-do-I-say' gesture at Jason. Jason raises both eyebrows. '_Not helpful_!'

"Hey, uh…you're okay, right? You haven't been around for, like, a week" Three weeks, thanks Dick "and I'm getting worried. I know we haven't really talked since Damian became Robin but…Tim, you're my brother, I want us to be okay."

"Uh…I'm fine, Dick. I'm staying at one of Bruce's apartments" _lies lies lies_ "in the city. I'm getting work done."

"Oh…okay," Dick breathes out, "Can we talk? In person? Now?"

Tim blanks, "Um, hold on a second," he presses the phone to his shirt, hoping to muffle the noise. "He wants to talk! Face to face! What am I supposed to do? What if he knows?"

"That's what you said before? Man, I need to brush up on my lip reading." Jason shakes his head, "Just turn him down if you don't think you can lie about it."

"I can't turn him down, he'll come looking for me and then of course he'll find out!" Tim whispers harshly.

Jason opens his mouth to add something but Tim pulls the phone back to his ear, "Were you thinking anywhere in particular?"

"You know the corner bistro? I was thinking maybe we could do dinner there before I have patrol tonight."

"That sounds fine, I'll see you in ten?"

"Yeah, I'll see you."

Tim hangs up first, slipping the phone in his pocket. "Shit. Shit!"

Jason shakes his head, "Idiot."

"Okay, I can do this. I'll just…tell him I'm not doing the hero gig right now. I'll say I'm focusing on cracking Luthor's systems or something." Tim nods, "Yeah, that will work."

He goes back into his bedroom to change into a more formal shirt for the bistro, coming back into the living room and leaning against the couch to pull on his shoes. "Damn. Do we have a job tonight?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Jason says, "Actually, if you could hold Dick off for a while, that would be great."

"Right, right. I'll try." Tim heads for the door, "Oh, didn't you say there was another little tidbit you learned?"

Jason grins, "I'll text you. At least you'll have something interesting to read while Dickie gets sappy on you."

"Right!" And he's out the door.

:::

"So what have you been up to?" Dick asks casually, stirring the ice in his water to distract himself from Tim's physical changes. Tim has slight bags under his eyes that are a shade darker than when he was Robin. He seems paranoid, glancing around the street (Dick_ always_ chooses an outdoor table) every couple of seconds.

Tim shrugs, moving his phone between his hands on the table, "Just this and that. Trying to think of another identity for myself."

"Come up with anything good?" Dick asks cheerfully.

Tim doesn't even try to hide his frown. He locks eyes with Dick, watching as the cheer fades from his eyes and is replaced by tired guilt. "Tim, I…I'm sorry. I know how much Robin meant to you and-"

"So why did you take it away?" Tim asks harshly.

Dick pushes back his hair and leans back in his seat, "Because I thought you were ready to go solo. Gotham isn't ready for an untrained, untamed Damian out there." Dick shakes his head, "I've been training him constantly and he still isn't ready. We completely blew a bust last night because he refused to listen to me. I can't let him run around Gotham with the mindset of an assassin."

"I_ wasn't_ ready to go solo." Tim says bluntly, "And I'm still not. I won't be for a long time. Bruce _died_ Dick, and then you took away the only thing I had left."

Dick looks up at him and Tim can see the strain the mantle has put on Dick. He's paler, with stress lines taking form at the corners of his eyes. Tim is reminded that Dick is mourning a father too, but it doesn't make him feel sorry for Dick, not like it would have before.

"Tim, please come back to the Manor. I promise Damian won't give you trouble." Dick says tiredly. "I don't know where you're living right now but…"

Tim feels his phone buzz quietly with a new message. He opens the message under the rim of the table so the evening sun won't glare off the screen. For once, Dick doesn't chide him for answering his phone.

'_So that interesting tidbit I heard._'

Tim sends back a question mark, hoping Jason will get that he wants to know what it is and not that he forgot about it. He looks back to Dick, "I'm not moving back in. My apartment is already unpacked and I have all of my systems set up there."

"I thought you said it was one of Bruce's apartments."

"I lied." Tim states, "It's mine."

His phone buzzes again and this time Dick says something. "Got a hot date or something?" He jokes tightly.

"Or something," Tim mumbles, opening the new text.

'_Apparently I'm fucking you._'

Tim splutters loudly, exiting out of the text. "Um, I have to go. Something came up with my roommate."

"You have a roommate?"

"Look, Dick, we can catch up later, okay. Just go back to training your demon hybrid and do your job." Tim ends up sounding much meaner than he intends to but he can't bring himself to care. He runs to the side of the street, hails a cab, and hopes Jason learns the meaning of subtlety in the next five minutes.


	6. Domesticity

About a month after they became partners, Tim opens his door to Jason and a white box. He's got a duffle bag slung over one shoulder, both hands holding the square, cardboard box lightly. "Uh…" Tim begins eloquently.

"My place is being fumigated. Step aside."

Tim moves out of the way as Jason pushes into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. "Fumigated? You have people that actually keep up your…_place_?"

"By fumigated I mean Batman and Demon got a bunch of toxic chemicals spilled in the area during their nightly blunders and if I stay there I'll probably die. Again." Jason replies. He keeps his hold on the box as he drops the duffle bag to the floor. Jason and Tim have both taken to calling Damian names after watching him in the field once from the rooftops. He had been…not normal.

"When I met Dick last week he said Damian still thinks he's an assassin. They keep blowing missions because the AntiRobin won't listen him."

"AntiRobin. Nice. Accurate." Jason nods. "So do you have any animal allergies?"

"Uh…why?" Tim asks warily at the sudden subject change.

"Because I don't want to have to take Goober to a kennel if I don't have to."

"Who is…_Goober_?"

Jason tilts the box so Tim can see inside. It's filled with cat toys and food complete with a palm-sized kitten sleeping soundly in a corner of the space. The kitten is bright white with one black ear and a tiny little tail.

"You…have a cat named…Goober? After the show?"

"Well I wasn't going to name her Opie."

"Clearly," Tim says faintly.

"Anyway, I can crash on the couch with her. She doesn't take up much space."

"I have a guest room. Aside from the room we have the computer in, I mean. It's smaller, but…" Tim feels it's only fair to offer it since Jason has basically offered him his entire new life.

Jason assesses him for a moment. He nods, "Sure. Thanks."

Tim indicates to the hallway, "Last one on the left, one past the small bathroom."

"Small bathroom?" Jason quotes, "There's a bigger one?"

"The master bathroom attached to my room." Tim replies.

Jason mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "rich kids" and heads down the hallway. Tim watches his until he his appears past the doorway to the spare room. He has to wonder when Jason got a kitten or if he is just that unobservant around the former bird.

:::

The first time Tim sees the kitten awake is a few hours later. He's in the computer room, tracking some of Jason's less than loyal henchmen around the slums, when he hears the soft jingle of a bell and a small kitten noise (and yes, Tim is usually more eloquent with his descriptions, but it's been a monotonous day). He spins the chair, eyeing the kitten as she ventures into the room, nose glued to the ground. Her black ear twitches every time the chair creaks.

"Go away," He tells her. He wants to finish his work so he can go to sleep. Much needed, well deserved sleep. What he doesn't need is a distraction climbing around the wires and unplugging the system.

The kitten lifts her head, tilting at Tim like he's this new creature. There is a saccharine ribbon around her neck tied in a fancy bow. A small, silver bell hags in the middle and Tim can't believe Jason named her Goober.

He hears Jason whistle somewhere in the apartment and the kitten turns and darts out of the room, presumably to find her master.

Tim turns back to the computer screen, thoughts scrambled.

:::

The next morning, Tim is awakened to the smell of bacon. He groans loudly, stuffing a pillow over his face. Although he is not an active vegetarian (as a vigilante there really was no substitute for meat) he stays away from unnecessarily greasy food, which is basically Jason's entire food pyramid. He pulls himself out of bed and stumbles to the kitchen, at least to glare at Jason silently until he fully wakes up.

Jason has his back to Tim, moving around the skillet on the stovetop with one hand and sipping orange juice from the other. Goober is on the smaller counter next to him, languidly eating from an open can of cat food. He looks over his shoulder at Tim, always perceptive to someone at his back.

"Nice hair," Jason grins.

Tim absentmindedly smooths down his bedhead. "Nice jammies," he counters.

Jason looks down at his short, duckling covered, black pajama shorts. His white wifebeater has old grease stains on it and rides up far enough to show a hint of hair leading down his navel to places Tim doesn't want his mind to follow. "They're classic."

"Classically horrible," Tim agrees. He shuffles to the fridge, pulling it open and fishing out an apple. He moves away from Jason, putting the island between them, before he bites into it.

"Batman and Robin shot another blank last night," Jason begins conversationally, "Papers are all over it. Robin strung up some cop for interrogation, convinced he was a criminal. That's the statement Gordon released anyway."

"Kid's going to erase all the years of Robin's reputation if he keeps this up." Tim grumbles.

"Not that you care," Jason says.

"Not that I care," Tim repeats.

Jason shrugs, "I say let him terrorize the city. Leaves more room for me to do my work."

Tim doesn't say anything, taking another bite of breakfast. Jason yawns, putting down his glass on the opposite counter from Goober. He scratches behind her ear while she eats. "You busy this morning?"

"No, why?"

"One of my contacts wants to meet with me. I don't want to go." Jason waves a hand, "I can't leave Goober here in this strange house all by herself, after all. Go meet with him."

"Can I have an address?" Tim frowns at Jason's casual orders.

"Sticky note on your TV screen," Jason replies.

:::

When Tim returns from his meeting, the house is quiet. Goober is curled up on one of the couch cushions, fast asleep. Tim gives her wide berth as he heads back to his bedroom, stripping off the unnecessary parts of the uniform. His mask is placed delicately on his nightstand, the rest of the clothes stuffed in a dresser drawer. Tim straightens out his undershirt, slipping into a pair of black yoga pants.

He freezes when he hears a noise from his bathroom. Tim glances over, noting that the light is on (he knows he always turns it off to save energy). He cautiously sneaks over, prepared to attack whoever was getting up close and personal with his toiletries.

When he rounds the corner he yells. Jason is in the bathtub, bubbles covering every surface of the water and hiding his important bits from view. The man has his elbows resting on the side of the tub, clearly relaxed.

"Sup, Tim?"

"Ohmy_god_, Jason, what the hell?"

Jason shifts in the water, "I needed a bath."

"I told you to use the smaller one! This is my bathroom!"

"You're point being?" Jason leans back further, "It's nice."

"Oh my god, you're naked in my bathtub. Oh my god," Tim groans.

Jason throws a grin his way, "Care to join me?"

"No!" Tim yells, turning and stomping form the room. He slams the door on Jason's laughter and goes into the living room. He tries to convince himself the image won't stay with him for the next few days.

:::

After the bathroom incident, Tim only thinks it's fair to set up some ground rules. Like Jason staying out of his bathroom and Jason keeping his clothes on in the apartment if he's somewhere Tim could venture.

Jason, of course, shoots down both of these ideas.

He's been at Tim's for about a week now (and the doorman to the building keeps questioning Tim concerning Jason's odd hours. The least he could do was pretend to try and be discrete) and both of them have engaged in a battle over the kitten.

It took Tim a few days to take a liking to her, but an alarmingly cute display here and a whining noise there won him over in the end. Of course, he can't stand her name and he refuses to call for her by it. So he starts calling her something else, something nicer.

"It's a better name."

"You aren't changing my cat's name." Jason replies.

They are sprawled on the living room floor, Jason waving around a stuffed fish on a stick for Goober to chase after and Tim struggling through one of the trivia Apps on his new phone – one Dick can't contact him on. His old phone remains on his night stand in case one of the Batfamily calls and he needs to keep up the appearance that he is still on their side, Robin or not.

"You can't call her Goober," She looks briefly at Tim before resuming play time with Jason, or 'play time with Daddy' as Jason likes to call it. "It completely misleading and, frankly, tacky."

"Tche. You're misleading and tacky." Jason pokes him with the stick, "Leave her name alone, you hear me?"

Tim faintly wonders when they settled into this routine of relaxation, but it feels nice to not be constantly in competition or arguing with someone for once. Sometimes he thinks it's his favorite part of Jason temporarily living with him.

"I can't just let you keep insulting her – what's Minnie Mouse's bird's name?"

Jason pauses, "Frankie. Are you playing Disney trivia?"

"Did you just answer my Disney trivia question correctly?"

"Touché. And your name isn't even good. It isn't fierce at all."

"Neither is Goober! And I'm calling her that whether you start to or not. She'll like it better."

"I don't want you to call her Peaches."

"Well I'm calling her Peaches from now on, so too…What type of animal is the throne in Aladdin shaped like?"

"Whose throne?"

"The Sultan's."

"An elephant. And don't look at me like that, Alfred introduced me to Disney when I was a kid and I never grew out of it."

"When you were a _teen_ager, at least."

"Shut _up_." Jason lets Goober/Peaches snatch the fish before pulling it away again. "You know what I mean. You're such a _priss_, it's no surprise everyone thinks you're the one taking it up the-"

Tim coughs loudly, "You_ said_ sell it. I didn't think it would be spread around so fast, or, at all really."

Goober/Peaches lets out a little cat whine and turns away from the toy, crawling her way onto Jason's lap and plopping down, apparently done for the day. Jason sets down the toy so he can rub behind her ears. "It's not that big of a deal. Actually, it's probably good for us. The people who keep propositioning me have toned it down and my enemies that think they can use you against me are starting to make mistakes and put themselves in the open."

"You're welcome for completely screwing over my reputat…don't say it."

"But it was the perfect set up," Jason grins.

Tim turns back to his game, "Yeah, still, don't."

Jason picks up Goober/Peaches by the scruff of her neck and sets her on Tim's lap, sitting on his phone. Tim throws him a frown, to which Jason relies with a cheeky "It's Mommy's turn now."

:::

There is one thing about Jason that Tim has noticed while cohabiting that he will never tell anyone, including the man himself, about. Jason is afraid of the dark. Tim isn't sure if he realizes it or if it's become habitual by now, but Jason is never in complete darkness.

Jason keeps a lamp on when he sleeps, and he sleeps restlessly. The littlest things wake him up and Tim can hear him roaming around the apartment in the middle of the night. Sometimes Jason leaves (those are the nights when Red Hood takes out a handful of criminals) but most of the time he plays with his kitten in the living room. Tim thinks Jason would go crazy without her.

It is easy to make the connection between Jason's sleeping patterns and his fear, but Tim doesn't like the reason why. He's read the case files on Jason's resurrection, how Bruce thought it happened compared to what Jason told him during their fights. Tim has also studied psychology. He knows that being buried alive can change person, but Jason is an extreme case. Jason was buried dead but he was revived in his coffin. He was revived into a world of darkness, literally impenetrable. He had to dig his way out of the grave with his bare hands, and that is something Tim_ can't_ comprehend.

So he understands why Jason is afraid of the dark, and he understands why Jason blocks the fact from himself. Acknowledging it means remembering, dwelling, and Tim understands why Jason is unwilling to do that.

:::

"So…" Tim starts. He pushes around the croutons in his salad while Jason lathers his fries in ketchup. They're at the same diner they were in when Tim asked to be Jason's partner and it's ironic because Tim has another big question he wants to ask Jason.

Jason sticks a few fries in his mouth, motioning for Tim to continue.

"Do you…uh," Tim puts down his fork and folds his arms of the table, "Do you want to move in with me?"

Jason flicks his eyes up, meeting Tim's. He finishes chewing before answering, not breaking the gaze. "What?"

"Uh…permanently. Do you want to move in since your apartment is in a bad place anyway and headquarters is set up at my house and you've been adjusting to it for a week now and-"

Jason holds up his hand to stop Tim, "Where is this coming from?"

"I…I just thought…" Tim trails off. How does he tell Jason he should stay because he's grown used to having him around? Or that he'll actually miss when the apartment is empty again.

"Thought…?" Jason prompts.

Tim opens his mouth but can't find the words. "I…nothing. Nevermind. Forget I asked."

Jason frowns at him contemplatively, but doesn't say anything else. Both of their meals are left unfinished.

:::

When they reach Tim's apartment, Tim goes to his bedroom and flops face-first on the mattress. Embarrassment is still tingling in his veins, along with disappointment. He shouldn't have asked. Did he really expect Jason to say yes? Jason is probably rethinking having Tim as his partner right now.

Tim squawks when a vice grip wraps around one of his ankles and drags him half way down the bed. He kicks out his other leg, scrambling back up the bed until he can face his assailant and he shouldn't be surprised to see Jason standing there with both eyebrows raised.

"What the hell?" Tim demands.

"I was trying to catch you before you started to brood." Jason explains simply, "I think you misunderstood me at lunch."

Tim shifts uncomfortably, "No, it's fine. I was just…I mean I just-"

"Hey, I never said I wouldn't like to move in." Jason interrupts. "I asked where it came from because I can't understand how your fucking mind works."

Tim opens his mouth to rebuke the statement but stops short of doing so.

"So I want you to tell me why you want me to move in. Why you _really_ want me to move in. None of that 'your place is filthy, bad neighborhood, etcetera' bullshit."

"Uh…" Tim blinks. He has to think. He knows the basic reasons he wants Jason to stay. He's gotten used to living with him and he's starting to enjoy being around Jason in and out of uniform. If there is a deeper reason for it, Tim doesn't think Jason will wait for him to analyze it. In raw form, Tim supposes, "…I just don't want to be alone."

Jason shifts his weight at Tim's soft revelation. He sighs, not entirely displeased with the answer but there's another tone mixed in the huff that Tim doesn't recognize. "If I move in, we're going to have to set up a contract or something."

"Like a roommate agreement?" Tim asks tentatively, not wanting to turn Jason away from the idea of moving in by becoming over enthusiastic.

"Yeah, I guess." Jason nods, "Just pet peeves and other things to avoid doing that piss each other off."

Tim nods slowly.

Jason nods back, "Okay. Just, make a list or something. We can talk about it later."

Tim stops him when he's half way out the door, "Do we have work tonight?"

Jason glances over his shoulder, "No." He replies, "Not tonight."


	7. Third

Tim isn't sure what he did wrong, but suddenly Peaches hates him. Jason thinks it's the funniest thing to watch his little furball launch herself at Tim from random corners of rooms but Tim has to vehemently disagree.

"Can't you call her off?" Tim winces as he rubs on a liquid Band-Aid on the newest scratch.

"Hey, she doesn't like who she doesn't like." Jason has reluctantly agreed to call her Peaches in Tim's presence but he barely uses her name at all anymore. "It's_ probably_ because-"

"It is_ not_ because I renamed her." Tim scowls.

Jason shrugs and returns to his one armed push-ups. Tim finishes applying the liquid and goes back to sorting through the mail on the island counter. Though they are separated by the island, Tim keeps an eye on Peaches, who is prowling around the perimeter of Jason's usual afternoon workout, tail swaying triumphantly.

"Have you," Jason speaks only on the upwards push, "Made a. List of rules. Yet?"

"I wrote them on the fridge," Tim glances at the neat dry-erase marker list.

"Read them to me."

Tim frowns but glances at the fridge, "Don't use my bathroom-"

"No promises."

"-don't call the cat Goober when I'm not around, don't kill anyone in the apartment and don't let it get too filthy."

"Fair enough," Jason sits back to list off his own, "Don't go in my room under any other circumstances than thinking I'm in danger or you want me to hit you up,"

"Won't happen," Tim replies automatically as he adds 'don't go in my room' to the list in another color.

"Don't invite anyone over I don't know without telling me – I don't like surprises. Don't ask me about my time as Robin. Don't ever belittle me for killing someone, no matter who the target is. Don't engage Batman or Robin without permission. Don't slack off training. Enroll in online classes – you're too smart to let it go to waste and…"

Tim has lowered his hand, slightly mystified by Jason's last rule.

Jason grins wryly, "Once a week you should make me breakfast in nothing but an apron."

Moment ruined. "You had to end with that," Tim doesn't record that rule and instead throws the marker at Jason. He catches it and tosses it back onto the counter top.

"Hey, what's a little UST between mentor and sidekick?" Jason chuckles when Tim flushes.

"Just…be quiet, please?" Tim says.

Jason makes a small noise and suddenly Peaches is running at Tim to attack. Tim barely has time to move out of the way and he glares at a laughing Jason, "_I knew it_!"

"You can prove nothing!" Jason gets up and heads towards his own room.

Tim spares a glance at Peaches, "I knew it."

:::

Hoodlum only half pays attention as Red Hood gets information off the two Runners. He's standing guard at the mouth of the alley in case any heroes stroll by, but honestly he's just leaning against the brick and organizing grocery lists in his mind.

"So he's, what, imitating the Joker?" He hears Red Hood ask in disgust.

The female runner replies, "He's trying to be better than the Joker."

"His codename, though. He's not the same guy as the one that fights with the Flash?"

The male responds this time, "It's highly doubted. From what we gather, he just picked the name because it lined up with the Joker's theme. Most of the men that quit the Joker's group joined this guys."

Silence falls behind him as Tim tilts his head down to count the cracks in the sidewalk.

"Hoodlum?" He jumps when Jason's voice emits directly in his ear. Somehow it sounds like a question _and _a sharp reprimand. He turns around to look at Red Hood who folds his arms.

"Uh…" Hoodlum shifts his weight, "Yes?"

"Did you listen to anything we were just saying?"

Hoodlum sees both Runners exchange looks and he knows they're remembering this reprimand for others who buy information from them. "Someone named the Trickster, not the same as the Flash's trickster, is stirring up some trouble. Right?"

"Don't be a smartass about it," But he sounds pleased that Hoodlum was actually paying attention. "Stop standing guard. Come over here and participate."

"But you're the one who told me to-"

"Don't argue with me," He interrupts, "I told you to watch out _before_, _now_ I'm telling you to come over here and pay attention. Just do what I say."

Hoodlum grumbles but follows his mentor the few paces back to the Runners.

"Where were we? Right, so he's trying to out-class the Joker? I assume that means he's against Batman and Robin."

"According to our information, he faced Batman and Robin recently and they lost to him spectacularly. His methods seem more of a joke compared to the Joker, though. Not fatal."

"Just for shits and giggles?"

They shrug.

Hood looks down at Hoodlum, "Got anything to add?"

Hoodlum frowns, "No."

Red Hood shrugs off his response, "Alright." He slaps a wad of folded bills in the Runners' open hands, "Thanks for the intel."

They stare at the pair of Hoods before turning and slinking off into the shadows.

Red Hood leans closer to Hoodlum, "How much do you want to bet they're gonna start more rumors about us?"

Against his better judgment, his lips quirk, "I wouldn't bet against it."

Red Hood claps his hand against Hoodlum's back, "Don't ever forget you started it."

"How can I when every time I turn around, people give me the look?"

"What look?" Red Hood asks.

"The look that means they think I'm taking it up the ass from you?"

"Mm, vulgarity. I like it." Red Hood makes to move down the alley, "Besides, nobody would ever think I was bottoming for anyone. Though there was a weird rumor involving Black Mask a while back."

"Black Mask?" Hoodlum asks incredulously.

"Careful," Red Hood warns, "Your jealous is showing."

"Internet memes? Really?" Hoodlum follows Red Hood onto the deserted streets of Crime Alley. Most people this time of night know to stay out of the way during Red Hood's patrols - especially if they don't want to end up caught between Red Hood and Batman.

"They're funny." Red Hood replies, "Drug dealer, high noon."

Hoodlum follows the verbal direction, spotting the dealer trying to hide in the shadows of an alley, most likely hoping they'll pass him by.

"What about him?"

"He's a known repeat offender, dealing mostly to high school kids. I warned him twice, once with a bullet to his leg. He used up his chances when I caught an exchange earlier today."

Hoodlum wonders when Jason _did_ go out.

"Why didn't you kill him then?"

"In front of the kids? Geez, Timmy, I'm harsh but I'm not heartless." He steps behind Tim and puts his hands on his face, adjusting his gaze to focus solely on the dealer. "He's alone now, yes?"

Tim feels a weird warmth rush down his spine. Jason's hands are hot through his gloves. "Yes."

"Take him out."

"From here?"

"What do you think?"

Tim shrugs out of Jason's hold, accepting the gun Jason presents him. Jason fluctuates between letting Tim carry a gun and having him fight bare handed. "Make it fast, pretty bird."

Tim throws him a look for the nickname, "I thought I wasn't a bird anymore."

He imagines a grin spreading across Jason's face under the mask, "Damn straight. Now go kill the bastard."

Tim slides the gun into his thigh holster, something he added to the costume on his own, and jogs down the sidewalk. When he's sure that the dealer is focused on Jason's leisurely stroll, he paces silently back to the alley.

It's relatively easy to slip into the persona of Hoodlum. All he has to do is tweak his attitude and pluck away some of his morals. "Looking for someone?"

The dealer jerks and lets out a startles yelp. Tim thrusts a palm at his jugular, causing the man to cough and struggle for air. He steps in close, trapping the man against the wall. "Did you really think you could keep dealing without Red Hood finding out?"

The man struggles against his weight but Tim's training makes it impossible for the bigger man to break free. He tries to talk but Tim puts his hands over his mouth, "Don't speak. We're not interested in your excuses. We just want you to know_ we_ knew what you were up to, and that's how you got yourself killed."

Tim uses his free hand to grab the gun, cock it, and press it against the man's forehead. He swallows before he pulls the trigger, making sure to blink so he misses the sight of blood splattering against the back wall. He drops his arms and steps away from the body, letting fall in the alley face first. Tim stands motionless for a moment, not sure if he should be feeling bad or invigorated. He thinks he is somewhere in between.

"Tim."

He jumps when Jason's voice comes from behind him.

"Jesus fuck, Jason!" Tim hisses.

"Keep your guard up, even after your target is down. Especially after your target is down," Jason instructs. "You hear me?"

"I hear you."

"You better. You don't want someone sneaking up on your flank while you do a victory dance."

"I'm not dancing," Tim says softly.

Jason stares silently, or, Tim imagines he is. They stand in weighted silence while Tim tries to make peace with his latest victim. Jason takes the gun from Tim and checks the notch. "One shot. Good-"

"Red Hood!"

They both look up to see a towering black vigilante watching them from the edge of the roof, a smaller, colorful boy by his side. Batman and Robin.


	8. Encounter

Tim stares up at Dick and Damian in part awe, part anger. Dick makes a less intimidating Batman than Bruce, but he still has the aura of the Bat. Damian, the littlest shit that could, looks more feral than heroic in his newly designed Robin costume.

_Dick made that for him. Dick made that for __**him**_. Tim's thoughts are on repeat.

Jason slides smoothly in front of Tim, cocking the gun. "Dickie bird. Demon child. What can I do for you this _fine _evening?" From his tone, it sounds like they've all fought before, and Tim has to wonder if that was before or after Bruce died.

"Red Hood, you're under arrest for first degree murder." Batman is all business, all _Bat_, and Tim can't hear any _Dick_ underneath.

"Oh, I'm shaking in my boots," Jason quips. "I don't think I'm going to come quietly though. I sure as hell know your little demonic sidekick won't be satisfied with the old zip strip." He feigns a gasp, "Speaking of new sidekicks, have you met mine? Hoodlum, you know Batman and Robin."

Tim squares his shoulders and Batman and Robin glance at him. "You have a follower now, Todd? Pathetic," Robin spits.

Tim feels his mood shift lower. "I'm not his follower!" Hoodlum snaps.

"Haven't you heard the gossip?" Red Hood removes his helmet, revealing a red mask and a toothy grin, "We're lovers." He spins the helmet on his pointer finger, tucking it under his arm after a few revolutions.

Batman doesn't react to the information. "What are you planning this time, Jason? Are you going to make your getaway and leave your new sidekick to take the fall?"

Jason snorts, "I'm pretty sure my new sidekick could kick your asses."

Tim glances uncertainly at Jason. He'll fight Damian (and Dick) if he has to, but he would rather not. He would rather run away and throw up like his stomach is letting him know it wants him to do right now.

Dick's posture shifts, becoming more 'Dick Grayson' than 'Batman.' "Jason," Dick starts off uncertainly, "You need help. We can get you someone. Bruce would want-"

"I'm not a fucking head case," Jason snaps. It sounds like an old argument of Bruce's rehashed in Dick's voice. "It doesn't matter what Bruce would want," Jason adds, saying the name loudly, "He's _dead_. If you're going to try and arrest me we're going to fight first."

Dick begins to say something else but he's interrupted by Robin launching himself off the roof and down to their level. Batman yells after him as Robin lands a few feet from Hood. He springs into combat, punching and twisting, putting Hood on the defense. He's good - he's great actually - but no matter how good Robin is on his own, he has to be able to work_ with_ Batman.

Red Hood puts enough space between them so he can raise his arm and aim the gun at Robin. Batman drops down from the roof, landing in the line of fire and pulling the cape up as a shield. Tim makes a detached note that it's been lined with bulletproof material as the piece of metal ricochets out of the alley.

"Hoodlum!" Jason tosses the gun at him so he has both hands free as Batman starts a physical assault. He catches the weapon almost clumsily and slides it into his holster, trying to force his mind out of its loop and into combat. Robin is rushing out from Batman's shadow, heading straight for Hoodlum.

Tim spins out of the way, grabbing Robin's cape as he passes and tugging him backwards. Robin goes with the movement, lashing out his foot in a roundhouse kick. Tim lifts his wrist, catching the sole of the boot on the bone. He winces behind the mask, making another mental note that Robin's boots are reinforced with something _heavy_ before grabbing the smaller boy's ankle and twisting it upwards. Robin grunts, smothering any other sounds of discomfort as a nod to his questionable training background. Robin aims a punch at his ribs, trying to loosen his hold. Hoodlum takes the punch, fingers twitching on Robin's ankle. It's enough for Robin to break out of the hold and do a backwards flip to put distance between them.

Both of them are breathing hard and Hoodlum can hear his heart thumping in his ears. He can't help the grin that spreads across his lips. It may not be like _Robin_, but fighting as Hoodlum is just as much of an adrenaline rush.

"Oh my god."

Tim turns when he hears Batman's voice break from vigilante to Dick Grayson once more.

"Tim?"

The fighting comes to an abrupt halt, the sound of suspended silence filling the alley.

Tim stands immobile as Batman stares him down. Several feet away, Jason folds his arms, shifting his weight. Tim can imagine his expression through the mask and he shakes his head, hoping to communicate that he doesn't want Jason to start fighting them again; not yet.

"How'd you guess?" Tim asks wryly while his mind is screaming at him to run.

"Oh my god, Tim. What are you doing with Jason?" Dick's voice raises an octave, "You just shot that dealer! You killed him!"

Tim feels nauseous, stomach clenching in knots. "How did you know it was me?" He repeats.

"I…your moves. Your training, I recognize it." Dick replies faintly, "Tim, why are you…why are you _Jason's_ partner?"

"Well you fired me, didn't you?" Tim snaps. He doesn't want Dick to move any closer to him. He feels sick. It's not like he never expected Dick to find out, he just didn't expect it so soon. He isn't prepared for this.

"Tim…I never…" Dick is grasping for words.

He's saved the trouble when Robin barrels into Tim's back. They hit the ground and Robin wrestles around with him, elbows digging into his spine as he tries to wrap an arm around his throat. He distantly hears Dick calling off his sidekick and Jason telling Tim to shoot at him. Tim twists around, rolling so Robin is pressed to the ground under him. He sends an elbow back into his ribs and Robin's arms loosens around his throat. Tim rolls off him and jumps to his feet, hand going for the gun in his holster.

Robin follows him off the ground, ignoring Dick's commands to stop, and rushes at Tim. Tim aims at the ground, shooting at Robin's feet. Robin evades the warning shots, spinning so he's side-by-side with Tim and can aim a punch at Tim's side. Tim catches the punch, twisting Robin's arm around and locking it in his hold. His mind is a mix of _fight run fight run fight_ and _shoot him kill him he took everything from you. _Robin barrels his weight into Tim's side, throwing him off balance so he releases Robin's arm.

Tim puts more space between them, moving so he is at the mouth of the alley and Damian is across from him. His heart is pounding in his chest and temples and the gun feels light in his hand. Tim raises it, aiming for Robin's head. Robin hesitates, expression hidden beneath his mask. Dick looks horrified, frozen in place.

"Back off, or I'll shoot you." Tim warns.

Robin scoffs at him, "We both know you won't, _Drake_. You don't have the stomach for it."

Tim doesn't point out that the whole incident began because they followed the gunshot Tim fired that took down the dealer still lying face down in the middle of their fight. Regardless, it's obvious that Damian doesn't believe that Tim will shoot him. Tim is hard pressed to prove him wrong, anger and betrayal and nausea rolling around in his gut.

Robin takes a step forward against Dick's short yell to stay where he is, and Tim lowers the gun a fraction, firing it. Robin yells as the bullet sinks above his right collarbone, the only place Tim is sure isn't bulletproofed on the costume thanks to the level of flexibility he displayed earlier. Robin staggers, falling backwards at an angle that lands him on the injured side of his body and he screams again when he lands. The gun in Tim's hand shakes slightly. He doesn't know whether to believe that just happened or be happy that he obviously broke Robin's collarbone.

Dick jumps into action, kneeling down at Robin's side and placing a hand on his back, lifting him off his injured side. His other hand flies to the com link in his cowl, alerting Alfred to have the medical room bay ready when they returned. Jason taps his fist against Tim's shoulder, indicating that it was time to leave. He backs out of the alley and disappears around the corner. Tim moves to follow, pausing only to glance back at Dick. His almost-brother is staring at him, mouth in an unsteady line. "What have you done, Tim?"

Tim turns his back of Dick, following Jason out of the alley and into the streets.

Jason quickly leads them a few blocks over, climbing into one of the abandon houses he keeps as a recovery spot. Tim follows him mutely, gun still clenched in his hand. Jason pulls the dirty curtains across their entrance, folding his arms and breathing a small sigh.

Tim feels detached from everything, half aware of the feeling of his fingers clenched so tight they fell asleep, half aware that he feels like he needs to empty the contents of his stomach on the nearest surface. "I shot Robin." He whispers to himself.

"He'll survive," Jason says.

Logically Tim knows that, but this is different than the times he's killed criminals and other scum. This is Robin, agent of justice, and someone Dick is responsible for. Dick is going to hate him.

"Hey!" Jason barks.

Tim jerks his head up, meeting the whites of Jason's mask with his own.

"Breathe," Jason orders, "You'll be fine. You shot Robin, but you didn't kill him."

"Dick is going to hate me," Tim says faintly.

Something strange twists over Jason's face and he strides forward, snatching the gun out of Tim's hand. Unfathomably, Jason looks angry at him, "_You_ need to sort out your priorities. Don't come home until you do."

Tim's mouth drops slightly, "What?"

"I said you need a fucking breather!" Jason snaps, "If you're so worried about what Batman thinks about you, go back to the fucking Manor and find out. Just don't come back wallowing in self-pity for something you should have been prepared for since the beginning!"

"I-" Tim's throat feels like it's closing in on itself. He doesn't understand why Jason is so angry and he doesn't understand what's happening. Is Jason firing him too?

Jason turns, storming to the broken window. He climbs on the ledge and disappears into the Gotham night, leaving Tim alone in the abandon building, feeling like the world is crashing down around him.


	9. Heart

Twelve hours later finds Tim exactly where Jason left him, huddled against the wall of the desolate room. His knees are pulled up to his chest, arms crossed over them, head buried between the limbs. Jason sighs to himself, pulling the curtains closed behind him as he enters from the window.

"What are you still doing here?"

Tim's shoulders hunch just slightly, letting Jason know Tim hadn't noticed when he'd entered. Tim looks up from his arms showing his eyes red-rimmed, but dry, eyes.

"Sorting out my priorities," Tim says quietly, tone lacking the sarcasm Jason hopes for.

Jason sighs loudly, moving forward to sit on the ground next to Tim, one leg splayed out in front of him, one becoming a resting place for his arm. He scowls at the wall across from them, frustrated at the way the words are catching in his mind before he can think of what to say. He's supposed to be mentoring Tim, not _breaking_ him. Tim might wear dolor and blood well, but Jason doesn't like how he looks in misery.

Jason forgets sometimes how fragile protégés can be. He should know, he was that way too, once. Before the Joker. Before the Pit. It's almost a prerequisite for the job, wanting to do well at everything. Pissing off your mentor? Pretty low on the list. And Tim is the worst of them; he's got the bleeding heart. Dick can brush it off with jokes and Jason could brush it off with harsh words but Tim doesn't use any of that. He just wallows in it until he's drowning.

"Look, Tim…" Jason presses the heel of his hand to his forehead. He isn't good at this talking about your feelings crap. "What I said was-"

"You're right." Tim interrupts. "I need to sort myself out. I knew I'd meet Dick eventually and I know we're enemies now, I should have been ready-"

"He's your _brother_, Tim." Jason breathes through his nose, "Out of the two of us, _you're_ the one who was right. You freaked out, yeah, and that's _okay_."

"_How_ is it okay?" Tim demands, voice going momentarily scratchy. "I shot Robin because I was _jealous_ of him! That's not how I should be acting, that's not how anyone should act-"

"Why do you have a set idea of how you should be acting anyway?" Jason takes a breath, "Tim, you're human. You can make mistakes. You're new to killing people and you weren't prepared to see Dick and the kid. If anything, you acted the way you _should_ have acted. You got pissed, you got angry, so what? You didn't kill Dick and you didn't kill the brat."

Tim pulls his legs closer, resting his chin on the crevice his knees create, "Why are you trying to help anyway? I'm the one that made you mad."

"Yeah, well, I was mad for a stupid reason." Jason rests his back against the wall, "Just because I don't have a problem cutting family ties doesn't mean you don't."

"That's not why you were mad." Tim says glumly, "I promised I'd keep it together and when I flipped out I gave you the impression that I was going to leave."

Jason doesn't have a good reply for that. "Well…"

"I'm sorry I made you think I was abandoning you." Tim says softly. His tone in completely sincere, to the point where it makes Jason uncomfortable to think about brushing it off with his usual methods.

"Oh _fuck_," Jason sighs, "Okay, we need to have a talk. I_ hate _talks, and we need to have a big one. Just not here. You need a shower, you've been sitting in sweaty clothes for half a day now and you're probably stuck like that."

Tim blinks as Jason stands up, brushing the dust off his pants. His lips part slightly, mind taking a moment to register the order, "You aren't firing me?"

Jason stares down at him with a mix of frustration and guilt, "No, Tim. I'm not firing you." He holds out his hand, waiting for Tim to make his move.

Tim swallows, staring at the offer before blinking hastily, willing the stinging in his eyes to go away. He accepts Jason's hand, letting the stronger man pull him to his feet. Jason makes a small _tsk_-ing noise as he brushed the dust off Tim's shoulders, "Let's go home."

Tim has to force himself to let go of Jason's hand, nodding at the inclination. "Okay."

:::

Tim spends over an hour in the bathroom while Jason lies on the couch in the living room, heavily weighing the pros and cons of how he plans this conversation to go. He doesn't do feelings. _Ever_. But Tim…he's _used_ to Tim. Tim has become a stability for him. He ca-_doesn't_ want to lose that.

Jason finally sits up when he hears the floorboards creak, telling him that Tim is entering the room. The younger boy awkwardly ventures in the room, wearing plain pajama pants and a red shirt that dwarves his frame. That and the wet hair makes Tim look his age for once, but also makes him look vulnerable. Jason bites back his comment on that.

Instead, he moves back on the couch until his tailbone is pressing against the arm rest and gestures to the open space in front of him. Tim practically falls onto the cushion, crossing his legs and keeping an open space between them.

"Okay. Talk. First, I owe you an apology for getting pissed at you. It was irrational and…sometimes I do things out of anger that I don't mean to do or say, so…" Jason shrugs, "But I think I should explain, at least, why I was mad."

"I know why," Tim frowns to himself, "It's because-"

"It's not because I thought you were abandoning me. Well, not _all_." Jason clears his throat, pressing a few fingers to his temple. "We, well, _erhm_, we have something. I mean, something….between us. Right? Not just the flirting and banter and shit, but _something_."

Tim opens his mouth, fishing for a response. He doesn't quite trust his voice so he settles for a short nod. When Jason doesn't look convinced he looks down, hoping he isn't blushing as badly as he thinks he is, "Yeah. I mean, ah, there is. Something."

Jason lets out a breath, "Okay, that makes this conversation much easier to understand. I got pissed cause-" Jason breaks off to slump backwards, thinking about how to word it.

"You got mad because…?"

"I guess for the same reason you shot Damian." Jason shrugs.

Tim blinks, "You were…jealous?"

"Well," Jason sighs, "You look up to Dick. You hate the thought of disappointing him, I can tell every time Batman comes up in conversation. Yeah, you're still upset he gave the Robin title to the brat, but he's still important to you and…I figured you'd do anything to redeem yourself in his eyes. Like, go back and live with him again. Or something like that."

"I could never go back. I've killed people, Jason. That's a line Bats can't cross." Tim glances at the open space between them. "I wouldn't want to go back. I _do _care about Dick, he's like my brother, but I _shot_ Damian. He's not going to forgive me for that so easily. Even if he doesn't think so, he already views Damian as family. It's who he is."

"You wouldn't want to go back? Why?" Jason takes a deep breath, "Even_ I_ want to go back sometimes. Not often, but…there are bad days and then there are_ bad_ days."

"Because…I care about _you_ too," Tim shrugs awkwardly, "I just…it would be too weird. Living at the Manor without you around. At the Manor I was always…I always felt out of place. I didn't fit in there, I didn't really know how to start. With you, it's…well, it's a learning experience but it isn't bad. It's nice not being by myself anymore. I don't want to go back to that."

Jason stares at him for a moment, "So what are you going to now? About Dick?"

"I guess…we're enemies now?" Tim lifts a shoulder, "I don't know. I'd like to talk to him for real. Tell him why I chose to be your partner, but if he doesn't want to, then it's…whatever, I suppose."

"Why you chose to be my partner." Jason muses, "Why did you? I know the whole Bruce is gone, Dick fired you thing, and you needed to be fighting the good fight, but what about the rest?"

Tim swallows, "I trust you. I mean, we've had bad times." His hand absentmindedly twitches towards his throat where Jason can see the faint hint of a horizontal scar. "But, for all the bad, I've never thought you would actually kill me. Not recently, anyway."

"You shouldn't trust me."

"Well, I do." Tim says, "And you trust me, so."

Jason sighs, "Yeah. I do."

They lapse into a silence, "So what now?"

"Now?" Jason asks, "I guess we just play it by ear."

"Sounds dangerous."

Jason grins just slightly, "_I'm _dangerous, babe. And so are you."

"Babe?" Tim lifts an eyebrow.

"It comes with the package." Jason slides down the couch so he's sitting with his back pressed against the foot of the couch.

Tim mirrors his movements, "So…are we…?"

"I guess those rumors have _some_ merit, huh?"

Tim flushes, smacking Jason's forearm lightly. Jason chuckles, catching Tim's hand before he can retract it. Tim presses his lips together as Jason relaxes against the couch, keeping Tim's hand locked in his.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Jason yawns, "Taking a nap. I haven't slept."

"…you waited up for me?"

"Someone had to make sure you were coming home." Jason closes his eyes, absentmindedly squeezing Tim's hand.

Tim moves close enough to Jason so he can move his captured hand into a comfortable angle. He leans against the bigger man, staring down the length of their touching legs. "…thank you."

Jason briefly opens his eyes, glancing down at Tim. He closes them again, apparently satisfied with whatever he sees there. "Anytime, pretty baby. Anytime."

Tim snorts, letting his eyes drift closed as he breathes in the mixed scents of leather, smoke, and shampoo.


	10. Date Night

"I don't understand," Hoodlum folds his arms as the Runners silently observe him, "Who would want to imitate the Joker?"

The boys, kids this time, shrug. "It's not our job to ask. We just tell you what we see."

Hoodlum sighs, "Alright. I'll tell Red you did your job."

The boys nod and take off. One pauses and turns around, "I know we said we didn't ask questions, but some other Runners are saying that you and Red Hood are a _thing_?"

Hoodlum drops his arms, hooking his thumbs in his back pockets. "That's true."

The boy nods and follows his companion. Hoodlum watches the boy disappear down another alleyway entrance before he turns and continues along his route. Patrols have become his go-to job in the last week since Batman found out who he was. It keeps him mostly out of sight and reassures the people in Red Hood's territory that they are still safe as long as they continue to follow his rules. Two birds with one stone, according to Hood.

Hoodlum walks until he reaches a fire escape, climbing up the rickety structure until he reaches the roof of the old building. From the ledge of the roof, Hoodlum can see the entirety of the slum skyline. Most of the buildings are the same height, breaking down as the richer parts of Gotham take over the city. Despite that, crime is still at its highest. People have noticed the differences in Batman, even if they don't understand why.

Almost on cue, the Batsignal lights up the sky. Hoodlum shakes his head, crouching down on the ledge. He briefly wonders if Batman is working alone tonight or if Robin has healed up enough to patrol.

Hoodlum sits, hanging his legs off the side of the building. His phone beeps at him from one of the pockets of his utility belt. He fishes it out, opening the text.

'_Meet me at Diner in 10_'

Hoodlum frowns, typing back a quick reply.

'_What about patrol?_'

'_Bat seen in turf. Not worth it_.'

Hoodlum rests the phone against his chin, trying to think of the closest place he hides civilian clothes. It beeps again, startling him. Hoodlum checks the screen again.

'_Use clothes in SH2. Wear whatever._'

It takes him a moment to remember where "Safe House 2" is located before he's up and heading over the rooftops and further into the slums.

:::

Tim slides into the booth, glancing around the surprisingly full diner. "Who are all these people?"

"There was a minor breakout at Blackgate." Jason gestures at one side of the room with a ketchup-covered fry, "Most of these guys are probably from there."

"You aren't going to go after them?"

"They haven't done anything yet." Jason shrugs, "Keeps Batman busy. What did the kids have to say?"

"They say the Trickster is leaving more clues? He sounds like a bad cross between the Riddler and the Joker." Tim folds his arms on the table, "But overall, he sounds like a joke."

"Huh." Jason eats another fry. "I thought he'd be more menacing. He beat Batman a couple of times already."

"Well Batman and Robin don't work very well together." Tim glances down.

Jason stares at Tim, chewing slowly. He swallows and says, "Are you okay to talk about them?"

"…maybe." Tim slumps forward, resting his chin in his arms. "The Runners asked me if we were a _thing_."

Jason snorts, lathering another fry, "What did you say?"

"I told them it was true," Tim arranges his arms to hide his flush. "Is that…okay?"

"Yeah," Jason leans back, resting his feet on Tim's side of the booth. "That's okay."

They lapse into a silence that's bordering uncomfortable. Jason pushes the rest of his fries around his plate while Tim keeps his head in his arms. The sounds of the diner fill the quiet space between them, prisoners joking about guards and doctors and how they got out.

Tim looks over at the crowd of escapees, half-listening to their conversations. They all look happy, hitting each other in good-nature and laughing at something the worker behind the counter says. Tim blinks, sitting up and looks at the table, "Hm."

"What?" Jason pushes his plate to the edge of the table, apparently done.

"I just…I guess I never gave it much thought while I worked with Bruce, but criminals aren't that different from us, are they?" Tim indicates with a small nod, "They're joking around and having fun. We just never see that side of them."

"As true as that is, I wouldn't romanticize 'em." Jason glances over, "They're still killers and thieves."

"What does that make us?" Tim asks.

"Not much better," Jason replies, "but _we_ don't go after innocents." He fishes a small wad of bills from his pocket and drops them on the table, "Let's go."

"Where?" Tim watches as Jason slides out of the booth and stretches until his back pops.

"You'll see." Jason says, heading for the door.

Tim takes one last look at the group of ex-prisoners before he follows Jason into the night.

:::

Jason leads him through the winding streets and alleys of the slums, until they come to the base of an old water tower that Gotham doesn't use anymore. Jason starts climbing up the thin ladder, leaving Tim to stare after him in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"Get up here!" Jason calls back.

Tim shakes his head, climbing up the ladder. He reaches the small platform wrapped around the belly of the tower, Jason nowhere in sight. Tim glances around, taking in the low-lying rooftops of the buildings around them.

"Tim!"

Tim looks up, "Er…"

Jason is sitting on top of the water tower, leaning over the side to peer down at him, "Come on."

Tim takes a small step back to survey the tower, "How am I supposed to get up there?"

Jason lifts an eyebrow, "_Climb_."

"Not what I meant!" Tim blinks as Jason lowers a hand, wiggling his fingers.

"Grab on."

Tim takes his hand, letting Jason basically pull him up the rounded surface until they're sitting side-by-side on the top. Jason looks out over the rooftops, settling on some point in the distance that Tim isn't seeing.

"What are we doing?" Tim asks slowly.

"Relaxing." Jason replies.

Tim blinks, looking around. He can still hear the sounds of Gotham traffic and news helicopters high above them, but there's a detached sort of feeling Tim gets, not being on the ground. Jason breathes in, "I used to come up here after patrol, just to remind myself that I didn't belong here anymore." He runs a hand through his hair, "I was wrong about that."

Tim looks over, question on the tip of his tongue. He swallows it, changing his mind. "It's kind of nice."

Jason snorts, "It smells like dead fish up here."

Tim winces, nodding, "Yeah, it does."

Jason glances at him, "This is a _date_."

Tim blinks, "Oh…_Oh_! It is?" He glances around, "Uh…could we maybe have a date somewhere that doesn't smell like rotten fish?"

Jason actually laughs, "I guess we could. Since you asked so nicely."

They're interrupted by a rapid beeping that sounds from Jason's pocket. Jason makes a face, reaching in his back pocket and drawing out his phone.

"What is it?" Tim asks.

Jason frowns, "One of the Runners wants to meet with me."

"Is it urgent?" Tim asks.

"…yeah, I think." Jason presses a handful of buttons and brings the phone to his ear, "What?" He is quiet as he listens to the person on the other end of the line, expression growing darker, "_What_? No, I'll be there."

He hangs up, slipping into business mode, "We have to go."

"What happened?"

Jason scowls, "The Trickster's gang attacked one of the clubs in my turf."

"Why?" Tim waits for Jason to slide down the hump of the tower before he does, landing next to Jason with a resounding thud.

"That's what we're going to find out. One of the workers caught one of them as they ran off." Jason heads for the ladder, "You're about to get a crash course in torture."


	11. Crash Course

Regarding the two OCs introduced here.** Go to my Profile - Scroll down until you see where I have a list of links - Click Abe and Maria - Learn about them if you want :)**

**_WARNING:_ I upped the rating to M just in case._ This chapter_ contains a not-so-graphic torture scene. **

* * *

Tim follows Jason through the slums, sticking to alleyways and side streets, "Jason! We're not in uniform, what are you _doing_?"

"The only people left at the club are the workers who know me."

Tim comes to a halt, staring at Jason's back, "People know who you are?"

"Only a few. As much as I need to operate easily." Jason glances over his shoulder. "What? You think a simple domino will fool _everyone_?"

Tim swallows, "Do they know who _I_ am?"

"They're about to." Jason starts forward again, leaving Tim to stammer after him.

Tim shakes his head, mouth set in a deep frown. The idea of some civilian, and probably not an outstanding one either, knowing who he is makes his stomach clench. He supposes if Jason can trust them not to rat him out, Tim can try.

The thought doesn't ease his nerves, though.

:::

They enter the club from the back door, moving through the empty kitchen. Jason pauses just before the set of swinging double doors, turning back to Tim, "Find a bowl. Fill it with water and mix salt into it."

Tim blinks, "You want me to fill a bowl with salt water?"

Jason blinks at him, "What did I _just_ say?"

Tim's mouth twists, "Sorry."

Jason breezes over the apology, "Turn on the oven and put something in it that will hold heat. Enough to leave a permanent mark."

"…you weren't kidding about torture, were you?" Tim looks around the kitchen. He isn't sure how he feels about this. Torture was never his strong suit, and the kind of 'torture' Batman and Robin used was probably the polar opposite of what Jason is planning.

Jason eyes him, "Are you going to be able to deal with this?"

"What?" Tim looks back to his mentor/something-more, "I…yeah, I think so."

"Good." Jason nods, putting an arm behind him and pushing open the door. "Oven. Salt water. Chop chop."

Tim nods, "Right."

Jason pushes thorough the doors, disappearing into the main area of the club, and Tim can hear him strike up conversation with a few people. He looks around the kitchen, moving to the industrial-sized cupboards to search for a bowl.

:::

Jason strides through the doors with exaggerated steps, coming to a slow stop in front of a chair where a pale, shaking man is tied, mouth bound with a tie. He nods at the two workers flanking the chair, Abe and Maria.

"We tried to get the others, but they got away." Abe tells him, voice a deep baritone and filled with regret, "Sorry, boss."

"It's fine. This one will talk." Jason stares at the man, "How many of ours got killed?"

"Two," Maria replies, adjust the skimpy bikini-top that barely passes as a shirt and leans her weight back on one foot. "Both bartenders. We'll need to hire more. Trustworthy ones."

"I'll see if some Runners can dredge anyone up. Trust can be bought." Jason moves closer to the tied man, grabbing his chin and forcing his head up, meeting his eyes, "What about civilians?"

"A few got shot. One died." Maria replies, scowling at the semi-hostage with distaste, "Cowardly lot, all of them. The Trickster didn't even come himself."

"What the fuck is with this Trickster guy?" Jason lets go of the man's chin. "Why am I _just_ learning about him? He can't be new and have a gang full of guns already. Some Runners the other day told me about him too. What's his story?"

"He's not new. He just used to be horrible. He got arrested every few days because he'd mess up." Abe shakes his head, "He used to sell hard drugs, but when the Joker got put in Arkham, he decided to try and become a, quote, _better_ Joker."

"So he started off shitty and now he's good?" Jason scowls, "And he's shooting up my territory, _why_?"

"Don't know." Abe replies with a shrug. "Guess this guy will tell us."

Jason looks at the man, "Yeah, he will."

The kitchen doors open and Tim comes into the room. Abe and Maria immediately go on defense, Abe reaching for the gun he keeps in his waistband and Maria assuming some kind of karate position.

Jason just lifts an eyebrow, "Calm down. He's with me."

Abe slowly lowers his hands, glancing at Maria who is doing the same. "Who is he?"

"Who do you think?" Jason shakes his head, beckoning Tim over with two fingers.

Tim presses the bowl of water into his outstretched hand and drums his fingers on his calves, "I could only find a heavy-duty knife, so that's sitting in the fire from the burners right now."

"That'll work. This is Abe," He points, "And Maria. If you ever need to make a run for me or something in the area seems messed up, go to them."

"You're Hoodlum, then?" Maria asks, tilting her head, "Hm. I expected…older."

"How? He's like seven inches shorter than me." Jason snorts, setting the bowl on the closest tale and taking his dagger from where it's strapped on his leg. Tim can't remember Jason having it at the diner, but there's a pretty good chance he wasn't paying that much attention.

"Alright, guy." Jason reaches forward, pulling the ties out of the man's mouth and letting it fall around his neck, "Talk. Why did you attack my place?"

"We were just doing our jobs!" The man yells, voice hysterical, "We didn't know it was yours! If we'd known-!"

"Bullshit," Jason interrupts, grabbing a chair and placing it in front of the man, straddling it and resting his arms on the back, quirking his eyebrow at the man, "Everyone knows this club belongs to the Hood."

The man takes a breath, wheezes, "We didn't! We just did what we were told, man!"

"Don't call me man." Jason tells him, holding up his knife. "You know something interesting? Humans have the capability of cutting off their fingers as easily as carrots, but our brain sends a signal to make us stop before we do."

The man whimpers.

"If you don't talk, I'm going to start taking fingers." Jason lowers the blade, "Understand? Don't worry about the blood though. See, I had Hoodlum here heat up another blade so we can cauterize your wounds. Just so you don't pass out from blood loss. Isn't that nice?"

Tim shifts, looking down. He walks over to the nearest table, sitting on the edge.

"See, I'm not usually too _into_ torture but you just _had_ to attack my place when I was on a _date_."

Tim can't help but snort, despite the situation. Jason glances at him with a grin and Tim gets the distinct feeling that he enjoys playing with people more than he lets on.

"I don't know anything!" The man cries, struggling against the bonds.

Jason stands from the chair, gesturing to the man with the knife. "Move him to the table." Jason instructs Abe. Abe grabs the back of the man's chair, dragging him over to the table without care. "Why, thank you." Jason mimics tipping hat to Abe who just snorts and shakes his head.

Jason looks towards Tim, moving behind the man, "Come here."

Tim pushes off the table, coming to stand next to Jason. The older man kneels, working away the knotting around the man's hands, "Hold his other hand when I untie him."

"I don't _know anything_!"

Jason frees his hands and slams one to the table, keeping a tight grip on his wrist. Tim holds the other one, surprised at how weak the man when he struggles against him. The Trickster must have a low budget, hiring a multitude of weaklings rather than a few strong ones.

Jason leans over, bringing the bowl of salt water closer. He sets his blade in the bowl, tilting his head down to stare at the man, "Talk or I take a finger for every person you shot."

"There were six," Maria supplies helpfully, "But I think the employees deserve something more than a finger."

Jason mulls this over, "You're right. I'll shoot out his knees."

The man cries, "_Please_, I didn't mean to attack your club! I didn't _know_!"

"Even if that _is_ true," Jason sighs, "You still did it. Tell me about the Trickster."

"I can't! He'll find out! He's crazy!"

"Have you ever met the Joker?" Jason asks, retrieving his dripping knife and interlocking his fingers with the man's, forcing his fingers to splay out on the table.

"No," The man whimpers.

"Then you don't know crazy." Jason glances back to Tim, "Keep ahold of him."

"Right." Tim tightens his grip, mouth twisting at the thought of what Jason is going to do. Even though he's been killing, torture still seems somehow worse. With killing, it's a straight shot, no messing around. Torture is…not something Tim thinks he's going to get used to as quickly; even if it is something as small as fingers, because Tim knows Jason could do much worse.

"Last chance," Jason tells the man, "Trickster. Who is he? Why did he attack my turf?"

"_I don't know_!"

"Too bad, then." Jason brings down the knife and Tim has to look away. The man is screaming, trashing in Tim's strong hold. _Salt water_. Tim winces, imagining how it must feel.

"Maria, dear," Jason says conversationally, raising the knife again. It's dripping in red, the blood mixing with the water droplets, "Can you go grab whatever Hoodlum left on the stove? And be careful with it. It's hot."

Maria salutes him and turns, pushing the double doors open and walking through like she's about to fuck shit up. Tim glances at Jason, "You have interesting friends."

"You should have seen them years ago," Jason replies, grinning when Abe says something along the lines of No, he should not have.

When Maria comes back, Jason continues. He cuts and burns, at this point doing it out of vengeance for the people who were shot rather than finding information. He does it all almost casually, and Tim wonders how often _this_ is a part of being Red Hood.

By the time an hour has passed, the man has given up screaming. No one is coming to help, especially not in this neighborhood. The Trickster abandoned him. Tim has to give him credit though, he doesn't give them anything about the Trickster, even when he's staring down the barrel of Jason's gun.

The gunshot finishes the job, and Jason calls in a Runner to deliver the body back to the Trickster, knowing at least _one_ of them will know how to contact him. Tim frowns as Jason finishes making the deal.

"What?"

"That was a bad idea. You should have just dumped him or something." Tim folds his arms. "You'll only irritate this guy."

"Oh, _Timmy_." Jason pats his shoulder, "That's the point."

:::

Later, when they're home, Jason ventures into Tim's room just before he's about to sleep. Tim opens his eyes as Jason sits on the bed, looking down at Tim with a certain curiosity. Like he's amazed and concerned at the same time.

"What?" Tim asks, covering his mouth when a yawn overtakes him.

"Are you alright? With what you saw today?"

Tim blinks, "Do you mean morally or mentally?"

"Are you going to have a breakdown?" Jason rephrases, already well aware that Tim doesn't like torture.

"I don't think so." Tim doesn't move to sit up, "I've seen worse, and I know you could have done worse."

"I meant with you not stopping it." Jason says, fingers tapping against his kneecap in an unfamiliar rhythm.

"I'll be fine, Jason." Tim shifts on the bed, "But…thank you. For checking."

"That_ is_ my job," Jason breathes slowly, standing up. "I'm going out to talk to some Runners. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah." Tim waits until Jason is at his doorway, "Hey."

Jason turns, question written across his features.

"Be careful." Tim tells him, "Come home in one piece."

Jason smirks, "Of course."

"I mean it." Tim tells him, giving a sleep-riddled, half-hearted glare.

"I know. I will be." Jason leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Tim closes his eyes again, drifting off to the sounds of Jason's footsteps moving around the apartment as he gets ready for work.


	12. Louder than Thunder

The television is droning on in the background, something about Wayne Tech and Lucius Fox, but Tim isn't listening. He's sprawled on the couch, legs hanging off the arms, book open in his lap, _relaxing_. It's been a long time since he was able to sit back and take things easy, and Jason had given him the day off, so Tim is going to take it.

Jason is at the club from the night before, helping Abe and Maria clean up from what Tim understands. Tim _had_ planned to come along but Jason had wanted to go on his own, and to be completely honest, Tim probably wouldn't have felt very comfortable around Jason's employees. He doesn't know them well enough.

Tim turns the page in the novel, shifting in attempt to get more comfortable.

On the coffee table, his phone buzzes with a text. He ignores it, continuing to read through the page. It's probably just Jason sending him a running commentary about how he's going to kill the Trickster for the mess he made. Tim will no doubt be hearing it later, anyway.

He makes it through another chapter before his phone buzzes again, and doesn't stop.

A call.

Tim frowns, glancing over. Jason doesn't call his cell. They have communicators for that sort of thing, in or out of costume. It's the most secure option. He doesn't know anyone else who would want to call him, unless it's one of the Titans and they, by some miracle, hadn't found out about his change of sides yet.

Tim lets the call go to voicemail, returning to his book. It's his day to relax, and he really doesn't want to dodge questions about a new Robin or what he's doing with his life.

This time he only makes it two more pages before the phone is ringing again.

Tim sighs, snapping the book shut and reaching for the phone. He lies back against the pillows behind him, bringing the phone to his ear without checking the screen. "_What_?"

"Tim."

He freezes, his heart lurching to his throat. He recognizes the tired, familiar voice instantly. Dick.

"Don't hang up," Dick says quickly. "Okay, just. _Don't_. I need to talk to you."

Tim swallows, sitting up slowly. "We don't have anything to talk about."

"You and I both know that's a lie." Dick's tone is level, but Tim doesn't think he's calm. "We need to talk. Meet me at the usual place."

Tim frowns, "and if I don't show up?"

"Then I'll come and find you."

Dick hangs up, leaving Tim alone to the news and the blood roaring in his ears. Finally he sighs, running both hands through his unkept hair.

And today was supposed to be about relaxation.

:::

Tim arrives at the corner bistro before Dick does, taking an outdoor table in case he needs to bolt and going over the quickest routes to the nearest safe house on a loop in his mind. His phone feels heavy in his pocket, a reminder that he hasn't told Jason anything about the situation.

If something were to go wrong, Tim needs to deal with it on his own. Working with Jason was his decision, and he isn't going to let Dick try and say otherwise.

It doesn't take long for Tim's ears to pick up the sound of a motorcycle engine and he twists around in his seat to watch the road. Dick pulls up to the curb on his civilian cycle, fitting snugly between two cabs. He gets off the bike, cutting the engine and slipping the key into his back pocket. Tim turns back around as Dick starts walking towards him, and he attempts to look relaxed as Dick hops the bistro's perimeter gate and slides into the seat across from him.

Tim takes a quick moment to observe his pseudo-brother. The last time they'd met, Dick had been a touch paler than normal. Now, his completion looks better, but the dark bags under his eyes and the deep stress lines etched on his face tell a different story.

Tim steels himself. He can't feel sorry for Dick. At least, not outwardly. They're enemies now.

"What do you think we need to talk about?"

"Tim…" Dick sighs, slumping back in his chair, "I was kind of hoping for some pleasantries first."

"I don't _want_ to be here, Dick. Let's just get this over with."

"…fine. I want the truth. I…how did you end up working with _Jason_ of all people?"

"I told you. You fired me."

"But why did you run off to _him_? Why didn't you go to the Titans, or Babs, or someone on _our_ side?"

"_Your_ side," Tim corrects, pulling the closest napkin into his lap so he has something to do with his hands. "Jason…"

"He _shot_ you," Dick says, "during the showdown for…He _cut your throat_ when he came back to life. _Why him_?"

Tim twists the napkin, averting his eyes. To be honest, he doesn't have an answer that doesn't come with numerous psychological issues. Jason had been the first person he thought of because Jason knew how it felt to be replaced. To feel that sense of complete loss. But that wasn't the _only_ reason; it was just the only reason that made _sense_. Tim _could_ have gone to the Titans, or Babs, or even to the Kent farm – whether Kon was there or not. At the time, it hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Jason….I _understand_ Jason. And he understood me. He knew exactly what I needed when I-"

"What you _needed_?" Dick interrupts. "You needed to _kill_ people?"

"_I_ needed someone to follow," Tim snaps. "Someone I could trust to have my back."

"You can trust _me_! I don't have to be your _boss_ to have your _back_."

"I wasn't ready to be on my own, Dick." Tim drops the napkin back to the table. "Why don't you understand that? I needed security! My dad – _both_ of my dads – Jack and Bruce _died_. _Kon_ died. _Bart_ died. Why on _earth_ would you think I needed to be on my own?"

"Damian needed-"

"Damian needed to go _home_," Tim frowns. "He's Talia's _child_, Dick. The first thing he _ever_ did was hurt us. It wasn't like what Jason did. Damian didn't _have_ a reason. He hadn't even _met_ us. He's _not_ going to change."

"He _has_ changed, Tim. He's _trying_. And he's my responsibility, now. I'm not letting Talia take him."

Tim shakes his head at the sheer idiocy of the belief, humorless smile on his lips.

"You _shot_ him, Tim," Dick frowns, "That is not okay."

"I could have killed him. I didn't."

"You wouldn't."

"I wanted to."

Dick looks heartbroken and disappointed. "Tim…come _home_. We can _help_ you. You need-"

"No." Tim leans forward, filling his tone with as much spite as he can muster, "And you don't know _what_ I _need_."

Dick hesitates before speaking, a grim look on his face, "Are you going to kill again?"

"Yes."

They fall into an uncomfortable silence, with Dick staring him down and Tim frowning right back.

Finally Dick sighs. He stands, fishing his key from his pocket. "If you _ever_ shoot _our_ brother again, I will throw you in Arkham, Tim, I swear to god."

"He _isn't_ my brother. He's barely _Bruce's_ _son_."

Dick's frown deepens, resignation tinting his words. "Damian is my brother. My responsibility. You shot him, Tim, and I can't…I'm _not_ alright with that. If you're still working with Jason. If you're going to keep _killing_. Then Tim," Dick looks like he's going to be sick, and it's about how Tim feels, "You can lose my number."

Tim watches Dick turn and hop the gate. He watches Dick get on his bike and drive away, merging with the city traffic.

Tim lets out the shaky breath he's been holding, forces the tension from his body, and closes his eyes.

:::

When Tim returns to his apartment, Jason is laying on the living room floor, paging through the Gotham Gazette. He looks up when Tim passes the couch, holding the newspaper to the side so he can peer up at his partner.

"Where have you been?"

Tim pauses before he replies. "…Dick wanted to talk."

Jason sits up, tossing the paper aside. "What about?"

"Me." Tim shrugs. "You." He sinks to the arm of the couch, digging his heels into the carpeted floor. "It…didn't go very well."

Jason stretches back, resting an arm on his knee, "So?"

"….so?"

Jason lifts an eyebrow, "Are you okay?"

"Oh." Tim blinks. "I don't know. I…."

Jason lets him think for a long moment before he sighs and leans forward, grabbing Tim's wrist. He pulls Tim off the armrest, sprawling him on the ground next to Jason, who lies back on his side, resting his cheek on his palm.

Tim frowns at him, just a little, for being manhandled.

"What did he say?"

Tim sighs, looking at the carpet, "He told me that if I didn't plan on coming back to the manor to let them _help me_, and if I kept working with you, he didn't want to have anything to do with me. He didn't phrase it all like that but…well, that's what he meant."

"_Dick_." Jason replies.

"No, it's. I get it. I mean. He has to be everyone's knight in shining armor, so I guess Damian is no different, just. I don't know how I should be reacting right now."

"React however the fuck you want," Jason scowls. "No one's going to judge you _here_."

Tim catches himself mid nod, turning his head to stare at the ceiling. Without much thought, he reaches out, seeking Jason's free hand. He winds their fingers together, squeezing out of habit and something else. Jason returns the pressure twofold, silent acceptance. Reassurance.

They lay like that for a long time – in silence.

Tim feels like crying. He feels like he lost another person. A brother. Family.

But Jason is here. _Right_ here. And…

That helps.


End file.
